I'm Home
by Jamie1229
Summary: A not so typical day in the life of John Watson. Could be Johnlock if you squint.


**A/N**: Hello my kittens! So I had this idea for a new One-Shot since my last one received some positive feed back! Umm I really hope this one makes some kind of sense. I mean it does to me because I wrote it but...yeah. Anyway, I hope you find this one enjoyable!

Oh and_ This_ = _Thoughts!_ ;]

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The wind blustered about, pushing colorful, fallen leaves along the front yard of a small home in Sussex. The eyes observing the seemingly unspectacular sight belonged to John Watson. He was now in the twilight years of his life. From his rocking chair he witnessed, on a daily basis, little moments of life passing by. Things akin to animals running about, neighboring folks milling around their yards, or yes, even leaves tumbling by in the wind.

_Getting kind of cold._

Looking down to his feet, John noticed that he would need to re-position his legs before attempting to get up. It was just one of the many menial tasks he had to take on since growing older. Heaving a sigh, he moved one leg then the other before finally positioning his cane just so. After much fussing, he made it to a standing position only to wander slowly back into his home.

The first thing he noticed was that it was quite. Too quite. Milling from one small room to the next, John was beginning to worry. That was until he got to his study. On the floor sat two young children, one boy and one girl, observing a scrap book in awe. John smiled warmly just as the little girl turned to face him.

"Grandpa! Andrew got into your bookshelf! I told him not to!"

She was frantically pointing to her brother, whom instead of denying anything just sat there looking bashful and ashamed.

"I'm sorry Grandpa...I just wanted to see what was in it... It just looked so cool."

"It's quite alright. You were just looking after all. That book right there is actually one of my personal favorites. Would you like to hear more about it?"

At that, both children jumped up, knowing that if there was a story to be told, they would have to move to the front room. Andrew grabbed the sturdy and rather elegant looking book, and was followed out by his sister in a hurry. After a few minutes they were all settled on the couch, ready to hear the story behind the big book.

"Grandpa...who is that guy in the funny hat?"

The little girl, Rebecca, pointed to an old news paper clipping with a large photo of a man trying to hide his face while wearing a deerstalker. John couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. He could hear the man from the photograph protesting in the back of his mind over that comment.

"That is...was...my dearest friend, Sherlock Holmes. We went on many adventures together. He was also my best man at Grandma Mary and I's wedding."

Both of the children gasped, knowing that the time he was speaking of was so very long ago. Neither really got to know their grandmother as she had passed away when they were much younger. It was a time John didn't care to reflect on.

"Did he wear that hat to the wedding?"

Andrew looked to his grandfather with a genuine sense of curiosity, and all John could do was laugh.

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking about Sherlock and all the crazy antics that he and John had gotten into back in the day. But like all good things, the lovely day of remembrance came to an end when John's daughter and son-in-law came to pick their children up.

"Hey dad, thanks again for watching the kids. They didn't cause too much trouble did they?"

"Not at all, I actually really enjoyed today. Perhaps even more then they did."

"Oh really? And just what did you do today?"

The young woman eye-balled her father with intrigue.

"Well they got into one of my old case file scrap books... Sherlock's."

A soft expression of understanding and sympathy dawned on her, and all she could think to do was hug her father in that instance. The embrace took John by surprise and in his moment of dropped guard, a single tear streaked down his face. One that he hadn't even realized he had been holding on to.

That night John crawled into bed with a set of feelings that he had long since locked away. All he could think about were memories of Sherlock and his days back at 221B. What he would not give to have those back. Just before falling asleep, John caught himself saying quietly, "Goodnight Sherlock."

_What...why is...it's too early to be awake why is he...no that's not right..._

John's eyes flickered open. There was a hazy glow around his room, but there was no way it was daylight already. Sitting up in bed, John noticed quickly that his room was in fact not even his room. Atleast it hadn't been in quite some time.

_Wait...this is my room but..._

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, John noticed immediately that the action had been far too easily performed for someone of his age. And yet that was currently the least of his concerns. Pushing open the door to his old bedroom, John walked down the stairs and into his old flat flat. One that he had long ago shared with someone very special.

_Sherlock..._

Standing just before the window, there he was, plain as day. He was cradling his violin and playing a soft melody, one that he made sure to finish before turning to face John. There was a sense of calm coming from him. He was even wearing a smile, one that warmed John to his core. It had been so many years since he had seen his dear friend. Never before had he been able to conjure him in a dream. The worst part was this all seemed too good to not be real.

"Welcome home."

Hearing Sherlock's baritone voice almost put John on the ground. To keep himself up he had to take a hold of the chair before him, his old chair.

"Sherlock you're...you've been gone...I've missed you so much."

He could feel himself start to choke up. Years of wishing he could talk to Sherlock. Just see him. And now, here he was. Sure it was only a dream, one that would end soon no doubt, so he couldn't waste time.

"What took you so long to come back? I spent so many nights hoping, no pleading for...this! For you."

"John, what are you talking about?"

"Don't do that. Don't stand there and act like this isn't all some crazy dream. Just tell me why you never came back to me before now."

A look crossed Sherlock's face, one that told John he had missed something.

"John, I don't think you understand. I've been here the whole time. Waiting for you."

"How do you mean wai-...oh..."

Sherlock set down his Violin and crossed the flat only to take John in his arms. Something just seemed right about doing so, and the both of them knew it. John put his arms around Sherlock in return , feeling a sense of bliss wash over him. Never again would he have to feel the pain of missing the other half of his heart. His days of wandering around aimlessly through life had all led him to this moment. Led him back to the only thing that had ever really mattered.

John let go first and stepped back so he could see Sherlock and, in turn, himself. The mirror perched over the fireplace showed the reflection of a younger John Watson that had long since been lost to the world. But now he was back because he could finally say,

"I'm home."

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**A/N**: And cut! Did all of you get what I was going for? :] My inspiration for this was the song "Long Live" by Taylor Swift and the ending of Titanic! Maybe that will help clear up any confusion, if there is any to begin with! Anywho, thanks again for reading!


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